


The Rose of Wakanda

by MaddieGaines



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Samantha Marie Ware, Samantha Marie Ware as Weza, Teyonah Parris, Teyonah Parris as Rose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-10-06 20:17:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17351915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieGaines/pseuds/MaddieGaines
Summary: Wavuka “Rose” Esihle has lived at the Wakandan Palace since she was eight years old when her father took a job as a servant. He fell ill ten years later, and she took over for him and has since served the royal family faithfully.After a month-long leave of absence, Rose is returning to the palace and tries to get back to her life. Unfortunately, that is proving harder than she expected. Will she handle it or crack under pressure?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Xhosa words may not be accurate due to using Google Translate. I do apologize if anyone is offended by this. Also, Xhosa translations are at the end of the chapters.
> 
> Character Bios for Rose and Weza are linked in the story.

* * *

 

 _October 17, 2016_  
_13:40  
_ _My sleeping chambers_

 

Dear Diary,

I don’t know why I'm doing this, but since T'Challa insisted on me having this feature on my kimoyo bead, I guess there's no harm in trying it.

My name is [Wavuka Esihle](https://maddiestundentwritergaines.tumblr.com/post/181169011993/face-claim-teyonah-parris-nickname-rose), but everyone refers to me as Rose. I've worked as a servant in the Wakandan Palace since I was eighteen, but I’ve lived here years prior. My father had taken a job as a servant where he served honorably until he fell terminally ill. I had to balance working at the palace and taking care of him until he died.

Today I returned to Wakanda from...let's just call it a _"vacation"_ (for now at least). The journey in the aircraft felt like the longest ride of my life, probably due to the nerves of returning home. I sat in the passenger area behind the cockpit while Okoye navigated the machine, while [Weza](https://maddiestundentwritergaines.tumblr.com/post/181169794478/face-claim-samantha-marie-ware-16-years-old-born)—a sixteen-year-old palace servant—tried futilely to make my naturally coily hair, which hadn't been combed since my departure from Wakanda, look presentable. Why she didn't just bring a scarf for me to wrap my hair in, I'll never know.

"Sister Rose," Okoye called out to me, "we are home."

Rising from the bench I was sitting, I moved to the cockpit and stood to the left of Okoye to see the majestic mountains and rainforests. I don't always get the pleasure of seeing the scenery from outside of the palace, so I took it in, mentally photographing its beauty. We eventually came to the forcefield that hid behind the illusion of a mountain range. T'Challa has always told me how great it is when the aircraft flies into the forcefield, revealing the loveliness and technological advances that was the true Wakanda.

Okoye flew the jet to the palace where King T'Challa, and his sister Shuri, were waiting with smiles on their faces. The ramp lowered and I departed the ship, Okoye and Weza following behind me. The first thing I noticed was T'Challa chuckling as if he saw something funny, and I was pretty sure it involved my hair. Granted, I hadn't been able to see it, but his demeanor told me that it wasn't the best looking.

"Welcome home, Rose," Shuri greeted me as she came over to give me a hug. "You're looking...healthy."

I chuckled and hugged her back. I missed her wit.

"I'm glad to be home. How has the palace been running without me?"

"Complete chaos, if you ask me."

"Especially with her and Weza trying to cook," T'Challa chimed in with a chuckle.

"At least I tried," Shuri told him with a pout. “It would've been perfect had you allowed me to use technology instead of hard labor.”

"There's nothing wrong with hard labor, little sister," I heard T'Challa say as they followed me through the palace doors.

"Well, I'm here now," I said to break up the brewing debate between the siblings. "So, I'll get started on supper once I have a long, hot bath and take a nap."

I stopped at a decorative mirror in the corridor and got a glimpse of my wild curls in fits of tangles, which was going to take hours to comb. Weza had tried getting rid of the tangles with her fingers, but it didn't do much good.

"Skip the nap, I need to do something about this hair." I took another look in the mirror. "Supper may be a little late."

"No need to worry about that, Rose," T'Challa said as he came behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders. "I will have someone...that is not these two," he added when he saw the two teens perk up, "cook supper. In the meantime, you are off-duty until further notice."

I giggled at Weza and Shuri’s frowns before smiling at T’Challa’s reflection. “Well, if you think I need the time off, I'll take it.”

“And maybe the time off will allow you to do other things,” Shuri said with a knowing smirk on her lips.

“She is not going to be a guinea pig for one of your experiments,” T’Challa told her, releasing my shoulders, while I chuckled.

“Trust me, I learned my lesson with the cloning fiasco.”

“Actually,” Shuri interjected, “I think I figured out a way to make it work. I just need-"

“Absolutely not!” T’Challa sternly interrupted her.

“Ku bulala,” Shuri mumbled under her breath, emitting giggles from Weza and I. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I'm going to check on the ingcuka.” She gave me one more hug, whispered that it was great to have me home again, and walked away.

“I guess that's my queue to do my chores for the day,” Weza said before giving me a hug and inching further into the corridor.

“Weza,” T’Challa’s voice pulled her back, and she turned on her heel. “Do your chores yourself.”

She gave him a thumbs up before disappearing, leaving me and T’Challa alone.

“What was that about?” I asked curiously as we began walking towards my chambers.

“Weza learned an excellent addition to her gifts that she has been using to get the other servants to do her chores for her.”

“Mind control?" I received a nod in response. "But that's dangerous."

“Only if used for malicious purposes. That is why I’m teaching her how to use it properly.”

“That’s good,” I told him with a proud look on my face.

Weza was born with the gifts of telepathy and telekinesis. When she came into her gifts at age six, her parents, who didn’t know where else to turn, asked King T’Chaka for help because she couldn’t control them. By his insistence, the parents gave Weza over to the royal family where she would be trained to control her gifts, and has lived at the palace since. Last year, Weza decided to show gratitude to the family by working as a servant under my guidance, even though they deemed it unnecessary because she was like family. I found it annoying at first, because Weza would follow me around like a lost puppy so she could learn from me, but she eventually grew on me and became the little sister I always wanted

We made it to my chambers. I turned the knob to the double doors, and before I could get the doors open, something raced out of my room and ducked between my legs. As it began to lift me, I instinctively clenched my legs around it to maintain my balance while it moved around the room fast and uncontrolled.

“WOAH! EASY!” I pleaded with it.

It came to a screeching halt, and the momentum forced my legs to lose their grip, causing me to fly towards my queen-sized bed and land with my back to the mattress—leaving my arms and legs sprawled, and my head hanging off the edge. Releasing a groan, I realized I was fine, but my relief was short-lived when a wet substance rubbed against my face.

“Ugh! LEO!” I mustered enough strength to push the licking tiger off me.

Leo backed off me before jumping on the bed. He tried to smother me with kisses again, but I was able to avoid it by rolling off the bed and onto the marble floor, brushing myself off once I got to my feet.

T’Challa’s laugh cut through the tension of the room, and I sent a glare towards him.

“I’m glad you find that funny.”

“I find it quite amusing,” he replied, receiving another glare from me. “Oh give him a break. He missed you.”

I rolled my eyes, but petted Leo’s head nonetheless.

Sixteen years ago, T’Challa and I found a mother tiger who had been killed by hunters. She had just given birth to a newborn cub that couldn’t fend for himself. With some convincing, T’Challa allowed me to take the poor thing back to the palace, where I took good care of him and raised him. I named him Leo, and he has grown into my furry best friend.

“I missed you too Leo," I told him while rubbing his ears. He leaned in to lick my face some more, but I kept him at bay while releasing a giggle. "Hey, now! That's enough of that."

“Rose,” T’Challa addressed me as he walked towards my nightstand. He opened the top drawer and pulled out my Kimoyo Beads.

My face lit up upon seeing them. I couldn’t take them with me—not until the world is accustomed to the idea of Wakandan technology—so I missed having them. Plus, I needed them to get in contact with my fiancé, Dakarai.

“Thank you,” I told T’Challa as he placed the beads on my wrist.

“There’s something I want to show you.” He tapped on the bracelet and summoned a feature I’ve never seen before.

“What is this?” I asked him curiously when I saw a blank document with a holographic keyboard.

“It’s a diary,” he answered simply with a chuckle. When he saw my brows furrow, he further explained. “I asked Shuri to include this feature so that you can write down your thoughts if you feel that you cannot express them.” He then proceeded to show me the other features: password encryption, unlimited storage, etc. “And if you want to go old school,” he typed in a code and the computerized document turned into a holographic, leather-bound notebook and pen, “it will still save in your database.”

“You really did this for me?" I asked, shocked by his generosity.

“Of course. Rose, you’re one of my best friends. I just want to make life as easy for you as possible. I know that sometimes it’s hard for you to talk about things, so I thought this way you could express yourself without having to talk about it.”

I fought back tears as I wrapped my arms around his neck and thanked him in our native language, “Enkosi.”

“Wamkelekile.”

We pulled away after a while and gave each other friendly smiles.

“Now,” T’Challa spoke up, “I have a meeting with the council in forty-five minutes. You, my dear, need to rest and relax. Don’t worry, I’ll get a couple of servants to do something about that hair.”

I shot him yet another glare, but he only chuckled in response while walking towards the door.

“T’Challa,” I called him back.

He turned on his sandal-clad heels. “Yes, Rose?”

“Can you show me how to change the password so that only _I_ can have access to the diary?” I arched an eyebrow, and he knew I was referring to his knack for being nosey.

“Of course,” he replied while flashing that charming smile that made all the girls in the kingdom fawn all over him.

After showing me how to change the password, he left my chambers, leaving me with my thoughts.

Now, I’m here, trying this new feature. So far I have to say that I’m liking it, and just might get used to it.

~~~

Translations

_ku bulala_ – killjoy  
_ingcuka_ – white wolf  
_Enkosi_ – Thank you  
_Wamkelekile_ – You’re Welcome


	2. Chapter 2

_October 24, 2016_  
20:56  
_My sleeping chambers_

Dear Diary,

It’s been a week since I returned to the palace after my _“vacation”._ Today was the first-day T’Challa has allowed me to return to work. Even though he wanted me to take more time to relax and re-adjust to things, telling him that I was bored out of my mind watching movies and reading books was enough to convince him to let me come back.

My morning went by fine and uneventful, just like my week—unless you count my inability to reach my fiancé, who’s either ignoring me or has his Kimoyo Beads turned off. After spending hours obsessing over my appearance (I had to make sure I looked perfect because any little thing might make T’Challa think I wasn’t ready to work again), I made breakfast, and cleaned the kitchen and the throne room. It wasn’t until it was time for T’Challa’s noon tea that _it_ happened...

I set the tea on the tray and made sure the tray arrangement was perfect. The tea was in the middle, and the teaspoon was to the right of the cup. To the left was a canister of sugar cubes, and there was a small pitcher of warm milk behind the teacup. Shaking my head, I rearranged it to where the sugar cubes were on the right, the milk was on the left, and the teaspoon was behind the cup. I shook my head again, and this time the milk was moved to the right, the sugar cubes were moved to the middle, the teaspoon was on the left, and the tea was towards the back of the tray. I shook my head again and moved the tea back to its rightful position in the middle, and the sugar-cubes behind it.

“Do you need some help?” A young, feminine voice broke my actions.

I looked up and gave the sixteen-year-old young lady a reassuring smile. “Thank you, Weza, but I can handle it.”

She nodded, but her eyes told me she wasn’t buying my act. “At least let me help you carry the tray?”

Before I could assure Weza that I can handle it, the tray levitated from the island and floated towards her, causing me to roll my eyes.

When Weza and I made it to T’Challa’s office, I knocked on the door and waited for a response.

"Ngena,” we heard his command.

“We have your tea,” I informed him as we entered the room and Weza telekinetically set the tray on his desk.

“Enkosi,” he thanked us. Then he flashed a smile towards Weza. “Practicing your skills I see.”

She shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Oh please,” I spoke from T’Challa’s desk, preparing his tea the way he likes it. “She just wanted to show off.”

“Rose,” T’Challa chided me with his charming smile, “be nice.”

I rolled my eyes again while stirring the milk in his tea. “Talk to me about being nice when she’s reading your mind without permission.”

When he glanced over at Weza for an explanation, she pulled an innocent face that sometimes gets her out of trouble. “She’s still mad at me because I gave W’Kabi a piece of her mind the other night at the party. But, in my defense, he had it coming.”

“Was that when she…?” he whispered to me, and I answered with a nod.

The only reason I didn’t bother to write about the W’Kabi thing is because that was a catastrophe I would rather not rehash.

“Weza,” T’Challa gently scolded her, “you know the rules.”

The teen sighed. “ _Only read minds with permission or absolutely necessary_ ,” she recited the rule T’Chaka and T’Challa set for her.

“Correct. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to speak to Rose alone.”

“Yes, My King.” She gave him a respectful curtsey and exited the office.

“You know she’s only going to find ways to listen, right?” I asked with a lifted brow before handing T’Challa the teacup. “Two sugars, and a hint of milk. Just the way you like it.”

“Thank you, Rose.” He gave me a charming smile before taking a sip of the tea, allowing the murky liquid to soothe his nerves; which, I’m sure was a result of the pile of paperwork on his desk. “I must say, Rose, the tea is amazing. No one makes it like you.”

“Well,” I began with a slight smirk, “what can I say? I know how you prefer your tea.”

He took another sip. “And you set the tray very nicely.”

“I’m glad you like it. I wanted to make sure it was perfect.”

“I can tell. Although, you usually put the spoon on the right, the sugar on the left, and the milk in the back.” He chuckled when he saw my widened eyes and fallen smile.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized and went to rearrange the tray setting, but T’Challa chuckled and grabbed me by the waist, pulling me into his lap.

“Relax,” he told me, still chuckling. “You worry too much sometimes.”

I flashed a small smile as a blush crept over my cheeks.

“How are you feeling today?”

I answered him with the usual, “I’m fine.” I could tell he wasn't buying it.

Truth was, I was a bundle of nerves—a mixture of fear that T’Challa would relieve me of my duties at any moment, and stress from not hearing from my fiancé.

“Rose, how old were you when you first came to live at the palace?”

“I was eight-years-old when my father started working here, so I've lived here for twenty-four years.”

“Yes, and your father served ten of those years loyal and obedient, as you have since you took over for him.”

“So…?” I questioned with furrowed brows, wondering where this conversation was going.

“So, in all those years, do you really think I wouldn’t know when you’re lying?”

If looks could kill, T’Challa would be dead from the glare I gave him. I pushed myself off his lap and walked around the desk to prepare the tray for removal. “Then you should also know that I’ll talk to you when I’m ready, and not a moment before!”

“Rose,” he addressed me sympathetically, and I could sense his guilt.

“It’s fine,” I said in response to the apology I knew was coming, my voice still conveyed my annoyance towards him.

“Have you taken your medication today?” He expressed genuine concern for me, but I shot him another glare.

“Did you just…?!” I shook my head without bothering to finish the question.

“Rose, wait,” he tried to stop me, but I grabbed his half-drunken teacup from the desk and placed it on the tray. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But you still said it,” I told him with narrowed eyes before turning and walking out of the office without another word to him.

After that, I went the rest of the day avoiding him. Even turning off my Kimoyo Beads so he wouldn’t try to contact me.

I overreacted. I am aware of this. But, T’Challa has always treated me like a child—maybe not exactly like a child. The point I’m trying to make is that he’s very overprotective of me. When is he going to learn that I can take care of myself? I always have and always will, so I don’t need him to...

 Excuse me. There’s a knock on my door.

I wonder who would want to bug me at this hour.

~~~

Translation

_Ngena –_ Enter  
_Enkosi_ – Thank you

 


	3. Chapter 3

_October 25, 2016_  
_7:53  
_ _T’Challa’s chambers_

Dear Diary,

I’m trying to write this as quietly as possible without waking T’Challa, who could use all the rest he can get.

After closing you last night, my visitor continued knocking on the door. It should come as no surprise of who was on the other side.

“Rose!” T’Challa voice rang from the other side of the door. “I know you’re in there. I need to talk to you.”

I rolled my eyes. Leave it to him to want to bug me at that hour.

“Go away, T’Challa!” I said with folded arms. I could hear the doorknob jiggle, but it wouldn’t budge because of the lock I placed on it.

“Rose!” He cried out, his fists pounding on the door.

“Alright!” I replied while rolling my eyes. “Calm your rhinos! Give me a minute!”

As he stopped knocking on my door, I walked to my connected bathroom and grabbed a bucket and a drying towel. After filling the bucket with water, I walked to the door while using my free hand to pull a chair and place it behind the door. Once the chair was in position, I unlocked the door and climbed in the chair.

“You can come in now,” I told him.

T’Challa opened the door and walked in. “Rose, I need to talk to you.”

No sooner he finished his words was he drenched in the water I dumped on his head. Once the initial shock of what I just did wore off, he turned towards me with an exasperated glare, but the roaring laughter that escaped from my lips left me unfazed by it.

“Very funny,” he said sarcastically as he shook his arms to get the water off.

“Trust me, it’s hilarious.” I handed him the towel so he could dry himself while I continued to laugh.

He took the towel and began wiping at his clothes. He then flashed his charming smile at me, which I thought was odd for someone who had just been drenched with a bucket of water. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh in a while. I’m glad to hear it, even at my expense.”

“Well, it serves you right.”

I went to the bathroom to get a mop to clean the water that got on the floor. By the time I came back out, T’Challa had stripped himself of his leather jacket and grey t-shirt—his lounge around attire. The t-shirt was draped across on the fire screen to dry while he used the towel to dry off his toned chest. Biting my lip, my eyes traveled from his pecks down to his abs, examining every line and hair carefully, as if I wanted to savor every little detail.

I shook my head to snap myself out of my trance. What was I thinking? Ogling him like that? He’s my best friend, and, even more than that, he is a well-respected king. I shouldn’t look at him in such a manner.

Clearing my throat to get his attention, I made a comment that made him chuckle, "You've come a long way from that scrawny little boy I used to know."

“Well, if I may say so, you filled out quite nicely yourself,” he said in reference to the thick hips I acquired in my early twenties, which wasn’t well-hidden by the flannel pajamas I had on.

I smirked and tossed him a grey hoodie I took from my clothes drawer. "Here. You can put this on."

He caught the hoodie, and his eyes flashed with a sense of familiarity. "Wait a second, didn't I lose this hoodie fourteen years ago?"

I shook my head while grabbing the mop, so I could clean the water. "No. You let me borrow it fourteen years ago, and I never gave it back."

I didn't give it back because it was the week before T'Challa was leaving Wakanda to attend an American university, and I wasn't going to see him as often. The time difference didn't make communication easier—only the occasional letter that he had time to write. It was also around the time I took over for my sick father. Whenever I was down or stressed I would put on his hoodie, which was heavy with his scent, and I'd re-read one of his letters. It was like he was physically there holding me and distracting me from my problems.

I cleaned the water up and took the mop back to the bathroom. When I re-entered my chambers, T'Challa was at the foot of the bed petting Leo. I climbed in next to Leo and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Rose," T'Challa addressed me, "about what I said earlier-"

"Forget it," I cut him off, not wanting to discuss that. "Please."

He released a sigh and nodded to show that he respected my wishes. He knew that I'll talk to him when I'm ready, and not a moment before. "I am just sorry that I wasn't there when you needed me."

"T'Challa, you were thousands of miles away at the UN, talking about all the wonderful things we could do for other countries. You had more important matters to attend to."

He reached out and placed his hand over mine. “You're my best friend. You’re just as important.”

I smiled at him. “So,” I began an attempt at changing the conversation, “you’re putting refuge programs in place in America?”

He answered with a nod and went along with it. He began to tell me about the programs he has put in place. Especially Shuri’s Science and Information Exchange Program, that she can somehow balance in between her experiments, her school work, and working T’Challa’s nerves.

“She’s very productive for someone her age,” I said as I passed T'Challa a Nutella-covered apple slice. “When I was sixteen, I was trying to figure out which head wrap matched my outfits.”

T’Challa chuckled and took a bite of the apple slice. “I remember. Although I always thought you looked more beautiful with your hair out.”

“That’s because you don’t have to tame it.” I smirked at him before taking a bite of my own Nutella-covered apple. “Now, you were saying that Nakia was in charge of the Social Outreach Program?”

“Oh yes.” He reached out for another apple slice, and I dipped it in the Nutella before handing it to him. “She’s doing a very good job, and she gets to help people like she always wanted.”

“That’s good,” I replied with another smirk, which he caught on to. He knew what I was thinking, but it didn’t seem like the proper time to ask about his friendship, or relationship, with Nakia. I made a mental note to ask about it another time.

“How is Dakarai? I've been meaning to ask about him.”

Feeling a twinge of hurt in my heart, I turned my face away and replaced the top on the Nutella jar. “He’s fine,” I replied with a solemn expression. I wasn’t ready to tell T’Challa that I haven’t heard from or spoken to my fiancé since I left Wakanda, despite my futile efforts to contact him.

T’Challa must’ve noticed my change in demeanor because he placed a supportive hand on my shoulder.

I feigned a smile, hoping it would get him off my back for a bit. Then, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand that read _23:21_.“It's getting late,” I used as an excuse to not further this conversation. “We both need rest.”

“Are you going to be alright for the night?” He asked in concern, and I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. This is what I mean when I say he treats me like a child.

“I’m fine, T’Challa. I can take care of myself.” I set the Nutella on the nightstand and climbed under the covers. “You don’t have to worry about your shirt. I’ll send it to wash in the morning.”

He grabbed his leather jacket and headed towards the door. “Goodnight Rose. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I nodded in response and waited until he left to turn off the light on the nightstand.

Unfortunately, though, it was the middle of the night when he saw me again.

This morning, I awoke in front of the fireplace of his bedchambers, having slept on a pallet of blankets he made for us. I had to crack my neck a bit because of the uncomfortable position on the floor, but fortunately, the rug underneath us was as soft as wool and made it easier to tolerate.

T’Challa is stirring awake now. I’m going to see what he wants for breakfast and get my day started.


	4. Chapter 4

_October 25, 2016  
_ _12:10  
_ _The Kitchen_

Dear Diary,

I just gave T’Challa his noon tea and finished a few chores, so I have time to explain why I was in his chambers this morning.

For the record, it didn't involve anything I wouldn't tell my future grandchildren.

Whenever a child would have a nightmare, their natural response is to run to mama or baba to help make them go away. I, on the other hand, was different. Instead of running to my baba, I went to the one person who I knew could help me feel less afraid. _T’Challa._

One time in particular, I awoke out of a nightmare—most likely about the monster under the bed, one that would generally frighten an eight-year-old—with tears streaming down my face. Snuggling my stuffed panther to my chest, I slipped out of bed and walked out of the guest house where baba and I lived so I could find T'Challa. Once I arrived at his chambers, I quietly entered and went towards his bed where his ten-year-old body was sound asleep.

“T’Challa?” I tearfully whispered. When I didn’t get a response, I took it upon myself to climb in next to him, and the shift in the bed caused him to stir.

“Rose,” He addressed me softly, his voice full of sleep, “what are you doing in here?”

“I’m scared,” I answered him with a quivering lip while fresh tears began to fall down my brown cheeks. “Can you protect me?”

He reached an arm out towards me and pulled me into a warm embrace. A few minutes passed before I fell asleep to the sound of his breathing.

The next morning, baba was frantically looking for me and I got the fifth degree about almost giving him a heart attack.

That brings me to why I was in his chambers this morning.

  Around 2:30, I jerked out of my sleep—panting, sweating, and shaking. My heart was pounding so hard that I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. In an effort to calm myself, I curled into the corner of my bed and hugged my knees to my chest, hiding my face in them while I futilely tried to get my breathing under control. I soon felt Leo’s tongue on my forehead as if he was trying to console me, but I gently pushed him away.

“No, no, no,” I whispered while more tears flowed down my cheeks, receiving a nudge to my shoulder.

Even though I tried to calm myself down, the shaking and the tears wouldn’t stop. I willed myself out of bed and began walking towards T’Challa’s chambers with Leo leading the way. When we arrived at the door ten minutes later, I knocked, but it was left unanswered. I assumed T’Challa didn’t hear it, so I opened the door and Leo rushed in. To my surprise, the disheveled bed was empty, but his whereabouts were soon discovered by the sound of a flushing toilet and running water from his connected bathroom. The door to the bathroom opened, illuminating the dark room with a little light, and Leo instantly walked in.

“What are you doing in here?” I heard him ask Leo, sounding surprised yet delighted to see him. When he came out of the bathroom, wearing only a pair of black, silk pajama bottoms, he gazed in my direction with a look of concern. “Rose? What’s the matter?”

“I...” I tried to answer him, but my words caught in my throat as a lump formed and a fresh set of tears began flowing down my cheeks.

“Come here,” he said soothingly with his arms outstretched towards me.

Without much coaxing, I ran to him and wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. As he encircled one arm around my waist and the other began rubbing calming circles on my back, I buried my face in his shoulder and let the tears spill out thick and fast.

“I needed you to save me,” I managed to say through the crying and shaking, “but I couldn’t...you wouldn’t......” I trailed off and gave way to tears.

“I’m here now, i ntyatyambo ekhethekileyo,” he reassured me.

 _I ntyatyambo ekhethekileyo_ means “ _my special flower”_. T'Challa started calling me that when I was fourteen as a term of endearment. I thought it was cheesy at first, considering that my name _Wavuka_ means _rose_ is Xhosa (hence, the origin of my nickname), but it eventually grew on me. He only calls me that during moments like this when he’s trying to make me feel better.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting at the foot of T'Challa’s bed, wiping my eyes and watching as he took blankets out of the linen closet and set them on the faux fur rug in front of his fireplace, arranging them in a way to look like a makeshift bed. He was able to calm me down a bit, but tears were still streaming down my face.

Once he made sure the pallet was nice and ready, he looked in my direction and held a hand out towards me. I walked over to him, and he helped me to lay down before tucking me under the blankets and wrapping his arms around me. I rested my head on his chest while his fingers traced the scalp line between my cornrowed pigtails. The soothing motion, coupled with the sound of his heartbeat, lulled me back into a peaceful slumber.

After a few hours of sleep, I stirred awake before cracking and massaging my stiff neck, a result of sleeping on the floor. Carpet sleepovers in front of the fireplace were adorable when we were teenagers, but now, it isn't too kind to my thirty-two-year-old body. It doesn't bother him much, but, unlike me, he has a heart-shaped herb that keeps his bones intact.

Once I started moving around, I noticed that my pigtails were gone and I was left with a coily afro. I sent a glare to T'Challa's sleeping form, knowing that he was the reason for it. He has a love for running his fingers through my curls and would sometimes go as far as to take down my hairstyles to do so.

An hour and a few minutes passed before he stirred awake. His arm reached out for the spot I had vacated, and he shot up with his back towards me.

“Good morning T’Challa,” I said to ease his mind while closing the diary from this morning's entry.

“Good morning, Rose,” he replied with a yawn as I retook the spot next to him and handed him a small plate containing a biscuit I got from the kitchen, which he gratefully took. “Did you sleep well?”

I nodded. “I did. Thanks to you.”

“It was nothing.” His brows furrowed in a questioning manner as he began looking around the room. “Where’s Leo?”

“Leo went off to play in the jungle somewhere.” I rolled my eyes, but smiled at the thought of my big fur baby.

We fell into a comfortable silence as he took the biscuit and spread some jam on it.

“I can’t believe that you took down my braids,” I broke the silence. “It already takes forever to do them in the first place. Not to mention the strain on my muscles from catching those hard to reach patches of hair.”

T’Challa chuckled. “If you want, I can rebraid your hair for you.”

I shook my head. “Don’t you have a council meeting this morning?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me. Besides, I have plenty of time. It shouldn’t take me too long.” He set his plate to the side and rubbed his hands together to rid them of any crumbs. “Come on.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing I couldn’t convince him otherwise. “Fine.”

I moved into the gap between his legs, and let him get started.

As odd as it may sound for the King of Wakanda to braid my hair, this wouldn't be the first time he has done so. T'Challa used to style mine, Shuri's, and even Nakia's hair when we were children and into our teens. I was always a little jealous because his braids would out better than mine.

“Ow!” I winced when he roughly, but unintentionally, tugged a small clump of my hair.

“Sorry.”

I resisted the urge to elbow him, and instead said, “It’s okay.”

One thing that would cause a problem with T'Challa or anyone else braiding or styling my hair is my tender-headedness. I remember one time when I was nine, an elderly servant—who has since passed on—braided my hair into cornrows, and I cried through the entire process. _The joys of_ _having_ _coily hair_ _._

“Done,” he announced after a while.

I stood up and walked into his bathroom so I could look at the mirror. I raised my hand to trace the [single cornrow braid](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/1e/82/90/1e8290240ebaf8aa03cdb2cf36d7d1be.jpg) and smiled at how beautiful it looked. “It’s perfect,” I called out to him before making my way back to the pallet.

“I'm glad you like it." He reached a hand out towards me and helped me to get readjusted in the space between his legs. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a warm embrace.

I closed my eyes contentedly and rested my head on his chest so I could hear the soothing sound of his heartbeat.

“Intyatyambo?” He addressed me a few minutes later, breaking the comfortable silence between us.

I opened my eyes, but kept my head rested on the spot on his chest. “Hmm?”

“Would it be alright if I ask you about your nightmare? You tried to tell me last night, but you couldn’t get the words out.”

I let silence pass again before sighing. "I don't remember much. I only remember darkness and feeling like I couldn't breathe. I tried calling for you to save me, but I couldn't speak. I even tried screaming, hoping you would hear me, but nothing would come out. No screams, no words. Just silence.”

I didn't realize I was crying until T'Challa brushed his thumbs against my wet cheeks.

“I am so sorry, i ntyatyambo ekhethekileyo,” he cooed and pulled me closer to where my head was resting on his shoulder. From my position, I could see that he was fighting back tears of his own. “But you know I’m always here for you, no matter what.”

“I know,” I answered him with a nod. “And I’m very grateful for it.”

A comfortable silence passed between us again while he held me in his lap and gently rocked me. Unfortunately, the moment was ruined by my _9:30_ alarm from my Kimoyo Beads.

‘ _Perfect,’_ I thought sarcastically as I willed myself off T’Challa’s lap, who gave me a questioning look.

“It’s time to take my medication and get the day started,” I explained.

He nodded and stood up to hug me. "If you need anything-"

“I know," I interrupted him, but smiled at him nonetheless. "Thank you."

I let him hold me for a couple of more minutes before I turned on my heels and walked out of his chambers.

~~~

Translations

_i ntyatyambo ekhethekileyo_ – my special flower  
 _intyatyambo_ – flower


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angst. This chapter includes the loss of an unborn child, so I can understand if you’d like to skip it.

_November 1, 2016_  
_21:16_  
_My chambers_

 

Dear Diary,

Another uneventful week passed, and I still haven't heard from my good-for-nothing fiancé.

This morning I took the liberty of sending him a message saying that I needed him. _Nothing._ How hard is it to pick up a kimoyo bead or even a cellphone to let the person you’re going to marry know that you’re at least thinking about them?

Considering what today was, I hoped he would've had the courtesy to check on me, but I must be asking for too much.

November 1, 2015 was a day like any other day, and yet it became one of the worse days of my life.

I awoke that morning to an empty bed. No surprise, because Dakarai was away on another business trip, leaving me alone with our unborn son. Releasing a sad sigh, I sat up as best as I could with my seventh-month belly and started my morning routine. In the midst of me wrapping my microbraids in a headwrap, I began to feel a slight pain in my stomach, causing me to wince. I knew abdominal pains at that point in the pregnancy was common, so I didn't worry too much about it.

The rest of the morning went by smoothly with breakfast and chores. Even though I was seven months pregnant, I was still adamant about working. Of course, it wasn't comfortable with my condition, but Weza was there to help out where she could.

It wasn’t until around noon when things took a turn for the worse......

I was in the kitchen making lunch for King T’Chaka and T’Challa, who were busy in an elder’s meeting. T’Challa was still a prince at the time, but T’Chaka thought his son was capable enough to attend the meetings as well as conferences out of the country.

While stirring the stew, I felt a pair of arms encircle my shoulders and a kiss placed on my temples.

“You know you shouldn’t sneak up on me like that,” I told whoever engulfed me.

“Is it wrong that I’m happy to see my best friend?” T’Challa replied softly in my ear.

I set the spoon on the counter and turned in his arms to hug him. "How was the meeting?"

He rolled his eyes, and I giggled. “Don’t ask. If that’s what I’m going to have to deal with when I become king, I may not make it.”

"T'Challa, you're going to make a great-" I was cut off by a sharp pain in my stomach, causing me to pull away from our embrace slowly. "Ow!"

He frowned in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I tried to reassure him, but the tears that were welling in my eyes told a different story. “I just—OW!” I felt another sharp pain, this one hurting more than the last.

A sticky substance between my legs alerted me, and I looked down to see blood dripping down my ankles and onto the floor.

“Rose!” I heard T’Challa address me in concern before scooping me into his arms and rushing me to the infirmary.

Everything afterward became a blur. The only thing I remembered before succumbing to darkness was hoping that my baby boy was going to be alright.

I wasn't sure how much time passed before I opened my eyes and found myself in one of the recovery rooms. The first thing I felt was someone’s thumb stroking my hand, and I looked over to see Queen Ramonda cradling my hand in hers.

“Quee-” I tried to address her, but the dryness in my throat followed by a cough prevented me from doing so.

“Here, drink this,” she instructed and presented me with a cup of water and a straw.

I did as she said and took a sip of the water. I was still groggy and tired from the day’s events, so I laid back down to rest. However, when my hand instinctively went to my belly, my eyes widen at how flat it felt, and I shot up, wincing at the pain in my abdomen, to see that the bulge was gone.

My heart pounded in my ears as I began looking around the room, searching for answers. A bassinet, an incubator, or something to let me know my son had survived and the doctors were taking care of him.

“Queen Mother?” I bore into her dark brown eyes with a look of hope. “Where’s my baby?”

Her solemn expression told me what I didn’t want to hear.

My lips quivered and my eyes filled with tears. “No, no, no,” I managed to say with a head shake of disbelief before a sob escaped my lips.

Queen Ramonda set the cup of water on the nightstand and put an arm around me, pulling me into a comforting embrace. I buried my face in her shoulder and cried, not caring that I was ruining her elegant dress with my wet tears.

The doctor came in hours later to inform me that I suffered a placental abruption and, despite their best efforts, they couldn’t save my baby. When asked if I would like to see him, I shook my head. I couldn't allow my only memory of him to be a lifeless body that never took a breath.

After telling me that I was staying in the infirmary for observations, the doctor left, and I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to hold back the next set of tears.

"Holding it in only hurts more," Queen Ramonda said to me, and I nodded in response. She was right, but at that moment, I wasn't in the mood for any more tears.

“Does Dakarai know?” I asked, speaking for the first time in hours.

She nodded. “I had both Shuri and Weza send him a message."

I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was resisting the urge to roll them. She didn’t like Dakarai, never have. I didn’t understand her disdain towards him at first, but it made sense months later when our relationship hit a patch so rough that we only spoke a handful of words to each other.

“Is there anything I can get for you?” She asked me a few minutes later, but I shook my head. One, because I didn’t think it was proper for the king’s wife to wait on me—a mere servant—and two, I just needed my fiancé.

The next couple of days consisted of nurses changing the dressing over my c-section scar when I wasn't sleeping or reading a book I've meant to finish for two years. At some point, Weza and Shuri would come in to cheer me up with reruns of Match Game 78, but not even Dumb Dora could put a smile on my face. Eventually, T’Challa made his way to the infirmary with a vase full of blue tulips—my favorite flower (ironic, I know)—to keep me company. He had been busy working on some plans that King T’Chaka wanted to put into place, so that’s why he has barely seen me since he had to carry me there.

By day three, I was agitated. My nerves were so bad that Queen Ramonda had to be called down to relax me because I had punched a window, even though the glass was too thick for me to break.

“Rose,” she regarded me with concern once she entered the room, “yintoni ingxaki?”

“Have you heard from Dakarai?”

She shook her head. 

It was dumb of me to ask her. If Dakarai knew what was good for him, he wouldn't bother contacting her. But that doesn't explain why he hadn't tried to reach me. No call, no messages. Nothing to let me know that he heard what happened to our son and that he was on his way.

Releasing a frustrated scream, I aimed for the window again, but Queen Ramonda grabbed my wrist from behind and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “No! No! No!” I exclaimed before roughly pushing her away and walking back to the bed.

“Rose,” she addressed me again, this time her voice was laced with sympathy, but I shook my head. I didn't want to hear it. I couldn’t bear to listen to a chorus of _“I'm sorry”_ and “ _I just want to help.”_

“You’re going to have to deal with this at some point,” she said sternly, receiving a glare from me.

“No! I shouldn’t have to! I should not be in here, waiting to hear from my fiancé! I shouldn’t.......” my voice trailed off as a lump began forming in my throat and my bottom lip started to quiver.

I felt her hand on my shoulder, but I flinched away and walked over to the window opposite of the one I had punched earlier. This one had a view of the mining trains, so I watched them run on the track while the lights stabilized the vibranium  inside .

I leaned my head against the window and sighed. “It isn’t fair,” I managed to say as a tear rolled down my cheek. “I should be holding my baby ..... not burying it.”

The sound of the automatic door caught my attention, and I turned to see Weza entering, and, for a second, I had a glimmer of hope that she'd tell me that Dakarai was in Wakanda or he at least bothered to  leave a message that he was on his way. She must’ve read my mind because she shook her head with a grim look on her face.

I bit down on my quivering lip to hold back a sob, but it didn’t work. Before I knew it, my head was in my hands while tears fell thick and fast on my brown cheeks . I slid down the wall and onto the floor where I hugged my knees to my chest and buried my face in them, rocking myself back and forth. I could hear Queen Ramonda’s footsteps coming towards me, but, once again, I inched away from her. Thankfully, she did n't press on and left me there.

I wasn't sure when or how, but she was able to convince me to lie back down in bed and rest. I was still crying by that point, but not as hard as I had been.

A while later, I heard the doors open and close, but I wasn’t sure if someone had come in or out, and I didn’t bother removing my hand from my tear-stained eyes to see for myself.

“She doesn’t want to be touched,” I heard Weza say.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I took my hand from my face. Instead of seeing Dakarai like I hoped, to my disappointment, I saw the baby-doe eyes of T’Challa gazing into my brown ones with sympathy.

“Intyatyambo?” He addressed me as his knuckled brushed the wet tears from my cheeks.

A sob escaped my lips followed by a fresh set of tears coursing down my cheeks. T'Challa climbed in next to me and pulled me into a warm embrace. I buried my face in his chest and released a heart-breaking wail.

“It’s alright, i ntyatyambo ekhethekileyo,” he said soothingly and started to rock me while his fingers entangled themselves in my microbraids. “Ndilapha ngoku. I’m right here.”

T’Challa rubbed my back soothingly as Queen Ramonda and Weza left—actions indicated by their retreating footsteps. He ended up staying with me that night after I cried myself to sleep.

I was released from the infirmary the next day, but a couple of more days went by before Dakarai finally made an appearance. He stayed long enough for us to bury our son together and leave again on another business trip—something about a new project his baba needs him on. I didn’t ask for more details because, truth be told, I didn’t care about anything that seemed to be more important than our son.

It’s getting late. I should get ready for tomorrow and get some rest.

Write later.

 

~~~

**Translations**

_Yintoni ingxaki?_ \- What’s the matter?  
_Intyatyambo_ \- Flower  
_i ntyatyambo ekhethekileyo_ \- my special flower  
_Ndilapha ngoku_ – I'm here now


	6. Blurry (Blurb)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a small blurb and an apology for the readers that's been waiting for me to update this story since February. This part was supposed to go in Chapter 6, but during some rewrites, it wasn't going to fit, but since I loved this part so much I decided to keep it and post it as a blurb.
> 
> Warnings: Angst. Mentions the death of an unborn child, so you are free to skip if this triggers or bothers you.

"Do you have to leave now?" Rose asked in a futile attempt to get [Dakarai](https://cdn20.patchcdn.com/users/127241/20170319/110421/styles/T800x600/public/article_images/nup_173028_3770-1489935827-9007.jpg) to stay while watching him pack his clothes into a suitcase. She didn't understand why he was leaving her alone on the night they buried their son.

"My family's company is on the verge of losing one of its biggest investors, so I need to go to London to negotiate a compromise."

Rose sighed and looked down at Leo laying on the floor. He jumped on the bed and rested his head in her lap, receiving soothing scratches behind his ears. "Considering what happened today, I was hoping you would want to be here….with me."

“What's done is done, Rose.”

She frowned at him while tears began stinging her eyes. " _What’s done is done?_ Is that what you have to say about our son?”

Dakarai glanced at her, only for a second, before turning away to get something out of the walk-in closet without giving her an answer.

Rose got out of bed and followed him. "Are you mad at me? Is that it?"

He didn't acknowledge her and instead continued going through his drawers to figure out which ties to take with him.

"You've barely spoken a word to me about it," Rose continued, hoping to get a response out of him. "Dakarai, can you just-"

“Enough, Wavuka!” He snapped at her with finality in his tone.

Taken aback by his outburst, she reached up to wipe the tear from her cheek. Without another word, she turned and walked out of the closet, out of the guest house, and eventually into the palace. Once she entered through the backdoor of the kitchen, she locked eyes with T'Challa, who was most likely stealing cookies out of the junk food stash again.

He didn’t have to ask her if anything was wrong. Instead, he took her in his arms and comforted her as she wet his night robe with her tears.

After Dakarai he raised his voice at her, they barely had anything to say to one another. Rose once took the liberty of counting all the times they spoke. _Six._ They exchanged words six times in one day.

And even then she was willing to fight tooth and nail for their relationship.


	7. Chapter 6

_November 2, 2016_  
19:51  
My chambers

 

Dear Diary,

 

Guess who I _finally_ heard from. Not with a call or a message, but with a….

Let me start from the beginning.

I wanted to get an early start on my day, so I awoke around six to accompany Leo on his morning bathroom break with a light jog in the jungle. Adorned in my pink sports bra with black trimmings and black shorts with pink trimmings, I listened to the energetic drum beats playing from my kimoyo beads. I don’t usually jog, but during my leave of absence, I found it relaxing—minus the sweat of course.

About an hour later, Leo and I returned to the palace, entering the kitchen through the back door, so I can give him his morning steak and shower before making breakfast.

Once inside, I heard the suspicious sounds of shuffling coming from the lower cupboards, an indication that someone was there. Besides Weza and I, no one else in the palace was usually awake and moving around this early.

I inched closer to get a better look, but all I could see was someone squatting and fishing through the junk food stash cabinet. From my view, I could see this person had big Afro-textured hair, sun-kissed mocha skin, and a medium brown dress—intricately woven with furs and complimented by a grass skirt—with a pair of medium-brown fur boots to match.

“Isis!” I addressed her, and she jumped. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t scare me like that, chica,” She responded with a glare towards me, her words laced with a thick Dominican accent.

[Isis](https://union.wisc.edu/assets/Uploads/EventImages/Amara-La-Negra-headshot.jpg) is a Dominican-Wakandan. She was born a year after me in the Dominican Republic to a Wakandan War Dog and her Dominican lover, who decided to remain unmarried. Unfortunately, an incident, one she hasn't given me the full story on, cost Isis her father and her childhood home, forcing her mother to return to Wakanda to raise her. She and I met in our teens when we both took jobs at the market—she worked the fabric stand while I worked the fruit stand—and have been friends ever since. Of course, T’Challa did have some jealousy about me having another best friend, but I guess chasing after Nakia kept him too occupied to care. Isis now lives in the Jabari mountains as Lord M’Baku’s wife and the mother of their two children—three if you count the little one inside of her now.

“Isis, why are you here?” I asked again.

After grabbing a pack of Oreo's out of the cabinet, she stood and scoffed at me. "You sound like I'm not welcomed."

“I didn't say you weren't," I rebutted while walking to the fridge to find Leo's steak and a bottle of water for myself. "I would've liked it if you called or something before coming over."

I didn't mean to be annoyed with her. After all, it wasn't her fault that I've been jumpy since T'Challa's long-lost cousin attacked the palace. The worse he's ever done to me was grab my wrist after I refused a pass he made at me. Had Ayo not intervened, stating that Weza needed me—which turned out to be the truth—who knows what could've happened to me?

“Hey hermana," she addressed me with her unique nickname for me and put a supportive hand on my shoulder, "what's wrong?"

Heaving a heavy sigh, I closed the fridge and turned to her. “Have you heard from Dakarai?”

It seems that I’m always asking someone that question.

Isis scoffed and rolled her eyes at the mention of his name. “If that idiota knows what’s good for him, he wouldn’t think to contact me.”

“You’re right,” I agreed defeatedly.

“I don’t know why you want to stay with _that man_ after everything he’s put you through.”

All I could do was nod before taking a sip of my water. “I know. I know. It’s just that….” my voice trailed off when Weza entered the kitchen with a sorrowful look on her face, causing me to furrow my brows. “Weza? Is something wrong?”

She reached into her yellow dress pocket and pulled out a pink envelope, holding it out towards me. “This came for you yesterday. I should've given it to you, but you said you wanted to be alone, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

I hesitantly took the envelope from her, and the first thing I noticed was the familiar handwriting. Dakarai's cursive had always been a bit sloppy, but with time, I learned to understand and recognize it. The other thing I noticed was the envelope didn't have a return address, almost as if he didn't want to a return message from me.

“Good morning," T'Challa's cheerful morning voice caught my attention. When we briefly locked eyes, I saw him lift a concerned brow before I shifted my focus back to the envelope.

Biting the bullet, I decided to open it. Inside of it was a white _Get Well Soon_ card, beautifully decorated with red tulips (Dakarai knows that’s my favorite flower). Shaking my head, I made a mental note to scold him for giving me this card of all greeting cards—especially since he knows why I was absent for a month. I, then, opened the card to find a long paragraph, nearly filling the entire card space, of his handwriting.

‘ _Dearest Rose,’_ it read, _‘I hope you won’t take it personal that I chose a Get Well Soon card, but I…’_

I wasn’t in the mood for the formalities, so I stopped reading and began skimming over the words, hoping to find something about where he was and why I haven’t spoken to him since I left Wakanda a month ago.

But then, something caught my attention, and I gasped at the words I read, words that smashed my heart into pieces. As I reread them to make sure that I hadn't imagined them, a lump formed in my throat and a sob escaped my lips.

“Rose?” T’Challa addressed me in concern, gaining my attention. “Yintoni ingxaki?”

Instead of answering him, I turned on my heels and ran out of the back door and towards the jungle, dropping the card in the process.

“Rose!” he called after me, but I kept running, quickening my pace as leaves from the trees slapped my face.

The leaves and my tears blurred my vision, so I didn't notice the root that stuck out of the ground until I tripped over it and fell, getting dirt on my face and leaves in my hair. Once the shock of what happened wore off, I sat up and winced at the pain in my knee. I looked at it and saw that it was scraped and bleeding from the fall.

“Rose?” I heard T’Challa’s voice, an indication that he caught up to me, killing any chances I had at running from him. Then again, it was stupid of me for trying to run from the Black Panther.

“I'm fine," I tried to keep him from worrying about me, but it was no use.

When he saw me on the ground, he knelt beside me to inspect my knee, causing me to wince at his touch. He scooped me up bridal style and began carrying me away from the area. I assumed he was taking me back to the palace until I saw the path he was taking me on, a path I haven't walked in almost two years.

This path leads to our [tree-house](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b8/1f/a7/b81fa7c268013a4bcc50481b0428d3ed.jpg) that was built for us when we were children. Of course, it looked fancy for a couple of kids to play in, but King T'Chaka always wanted the best for his children. Over the years, it turned from a playroom for two kids, to a teen spot, and now a quiet place for both of us to get away from life's anxieties.

T’Challa carried me[ inside](https://hips.hearstapps.com/housebeautiful.cdnds.net/16/06/768x463/gallery-1455279828-fairytale-treehouse-living-area.jpg?resize=980:*) and set me on one of the chairs before he went to look for something. “Here we are,” he said after a few minutes, returning with a first aid kit—we needed that on many occasions. He knelt in front of me and took an alcohol swab to the wound, evoking a wince out of me. "Sorry." He finished cleaning the wound and placed a band-aid over it.

“Thank you," I told him before he left to put the kit back in its compartment.

A few minutes of silence passed between us before he broke it.

“Rose, we need to talk.”

“About what?!” I snapped, evidently annoyed. I was already emotional from that sorry card Dakarai sent me, so I wasn’t in the mood for whatever ridiculousness he was about to subject me to.

“You told me things were fine between you and Dakarai.”

“They are….were," I corrected myself. "It doesn't matter anymore. Besides, what happened to the you-know-when-I ‘m-lying thing?"

“I knew you were,” he replied. “But I was waiting until you were ready to come to me with the truth.”

Instead of responding verbally, I hugged my knees to my chest and stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact with him.

“What is it that you're not telling me?" He asked, and the concern in his voice caused another lump to form in my throat.

Another silence passed between us before I released a sigh. “He broke up with me.”

T’Challa’s brows furrowed. “When?”

“Just now," I answered as tears fell thick and fast down my cheeks. "He feels that it's in our best interest if we go our separate ways. At least, that's what he said in that card."

I released a small laugh at those words. This wasn't an amused or joyful laugh. This laugh was laced with sadness, anger, pain, despair, and bitterness.

“Can you believe he actually broke off our engagement with a greeting card?” I asked T’Challa, my brown eyes locking with his sympathetic baby-doe eyes. “And of all the cards, he chose a _Get Well Soon_ one.”

One last bitter laugh left my lips before I looked at the floor again, resting my head on my knees and letting the tears fall.

“I am so sorry, intyatyambo.”

I shook my head. "Don't be. I've handled everything else alone, so I guess I'll deal with this alone too."

"Hey now, that's not fair!” He expressed and took a seat in the other chair. “Haven't I always been there for you?"

" _You have_ ," I emphasized. "You've been there for me through everything, but you shouldn't have. When I was sick during the early stages of my pregnancy, it shouldn't have been you helping me get through it. It shouldn't have been you that held me after I lost our child or held my hand through the grief. And it shouldn't be you that I run to every time I have a nightmare or a dream about my baba or my son. He should be the one doing those things. Not leaving me to deal with them alone, and certainly not going weeks without speaking to me."

My tears came faster and harder, my body was shaking, and I was struggling to catch my breath. I soon felt T’Challa’s warm arms encircling my small and fragile body as he pulled me out of the chair and into his lap. He began rubbing calming circles on my back while guiding me through a breathing exercise to get it under control. My breathing returned to normal after a while, but the tears were still leaking from my eyes.

“The last time I saw him was when he abandoned me at that mental health center,” I broke the silence between us. “He told me that going there and taking time away from Wakanda would be best for me. Then he left. He never called, never visited. Nothing. Just left me there by myself.”

Silence fell between us again until T’Challa broke it with words that threw me for a loop.

“I know.”

My eyes widen and I sat up to look him deep in his eyes. “You know?”

“I came to visit you one day. You didn't know because you were asleep."

My heart dropped in my stomach and more tears fell from my eyes.

“When I asked the nurse if anyone has checked on you, she said I was the only one.”

“Y...you saw me there?”

“Yes,” he answered with a nod.

I released a small sob before my gaze shifted to the floor in pure shame. "I never wanted you to see me like that. To see me so….so weak."

“Hey, look at me." He lifted my chin, so I could look him in the eyes. "You're one of the strongest persons I know. After everything you've been through, you still manage to fight through it. I've always admired that about you." He cupped my cheeks with his hands and pulled me closer to him, so my head could rest on his. "I know you're going through a tough time right now, but I also have faith that you will fight through it, just like you've done everything else. And you won't do it alone. I promise you that."

“Thank you,” I said softly as T’Challa began wiping my tears with his thumbs.

“Anything for my intyatyambo ekhethekileyo.”

I smiled a bit before wrapping my arms around T’Challa’s neck and snuggling into his warm body. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes contentedly.

“Rose,” he broke the comfortable silence between us.

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad that you’re comfortable, but you’re going to have to get up eventually.

I sighed heavily, assuming that he was talking about work. "I don't feel like doing chores today."

He shook his head. "I have no problem with you wanting to take the day off, but you need a shower. You smell like a mixture of sweat and dirt."

I playfully slapped his chest, receiving his loud, but pleasant, laugh in return.

 

 

~~~

 

**Translations**

**Spanish**

Hermana – sister  
Idiota – idiot

 

**Xhosa**

Yintoni ingxaki? - What’s the matter?  
Intyatyambo – flower  
intyatyambo ekhethekileyo – special flower


End file.
